Blocking the Block

When we last left our heroes (i.e. all of you at WU) we were discussing writer’s block, whether it is real, whether it’s just an excuse, whether it’s caused by fear or sloth or perhaps an ill-crafted story.

Today, fearless ones, we are going to explore the two roads we might take when writer’s block descends like the Joker over the Gotham of our stories. Consider this post a bit of a Choose Your Own Adventure.

Choice One: In spite of that terrible feeling of blockage, you keep writing. Keep your tush in your chair. Keep your hands on the keyboard. Keep at it. Keep calm. Keep tinkering. Keep your eye on the goal. Keep up with the Kardashians (no, don’t do that).

Choice Two: When writer’s block attacks your psyche, you can take a break. Take a walk. Take out a book of poetry and read it aloud. Take a bath or a breath or a vacation, even if that vacation is a trip to the grocery store with your elderly neighbor who can no longer drive to get groceries.

Which adventure–keep going or take a break–do you choose? I don’t know, and I don’t know because there is no single right path. That said, in order to make a smart and thoughtful choice, it’s important to consider not Which path do I choose? but What got me stuck in the first place? The answer to this question will help you choose wisely.

Writer’s block can strike for many reasons, and we need to use our x-ray vision to determine whether the block is an Issue of Story or an Issue of Fear; all writer’s block is a result of one or the other. An especially nasty case might be the presence of both evils. Shazam! Zap! Holy block, Batman!

Let’s look then at Story Issues and Fear Issues and how they relate to you, Superwriter, and your Choose Your Own Adventure. But before we do that, let me share an indisputable fact: obsessing and worrying about writer’s block only makes the block more blocky. It’s like being in a period of insomnia and worrying about whether tonight you’ll be able to fall asleep. Or being constipated and worrying about when on earth you are going to poop again. After all, writer’s block is literary constipation. Worry and dismay only worsens the block.

Instead, we must consider the root of the block. Perhaps when we can’t sleep, we need to address the stress that is causing the insomnia. Or eliminate that 4:00 p.m. triple Americano. Perhaps when we can’t poop, we need more fiber. Being stuck isn’t necessarily a bad thing; it’s our subconscious or our body alerting us to a problem we might not recognize on our own. In that way, writer’s block can be seen as one of those Caution! Danger Ahead! signs. Those are generally helpful signs. We don’t need to fear writer’s block; we need to understand why it has created a security breach in the Batcave.

Since there’s always a reason for the blockage, let’s examine how we determine whether we are blocked by Fear Issues or Story Issues.

First, Story Issues:

If … you are feeling bored, uninspired, ho hum about where you are in your story; if you are humming along and suddenly come to a screeching halt because you cannot figure out what should happen next; if you realize you have fallen in love with sentences and paragraphs that, while pretty, do nothing to ratchet up conflict and generate tension, then …

turn to page 16 of the Choose Your Own Adventure and give your story a full physical, including lab work and stress tests. Possibly a CT scan and a battery of allergy tests. Why? You are stuck because there’s a story issue. This means you get to keep mending the holes in your story. Call a writing partner and chat about your plot. Write your outline on a big piece of butcher paper and identify pockets of scenelessness. Accept the fact that the early drafts of all stories are crummy. And with each revision, your story will improve. Not even Ann Patchett can avoid killing the butterfly of the story in her head. Trust the process. Keep writing, keep plotting, keep revising.

When you persevere and focus on the story, rather than the block, you will make progress. Even slow progress, while arduous and humbling, is better than standing still and stuck in the middle of a broken story. Even having to return to the drawing board, starting fresh, adding thousands of unusable words to a file titled WIPjunkyard.docx, is progress. Fixing a broken story isn’t easy, but we don’t write because it’s easy; we write because we can’t not write.

On the other hand:

If … you are hearing that horrible inner voice that generates doubt, uncertainty, insecurity and self-criticism; if you are certain that people will laugh at you and your story; if you find yourself constantly comparing yourself to other writers—and always coming up short; Or, if you have gotten too close to your story and have lost sight of the heart of it; if you are too weary to create even one simple sentence; if you no longer have any idea what you are writing, then …

turn to page 23 in your Choose Your Own Adventure, where you will be instructed to address the fear behind these mean voices and/or you will take a break, get some distance, let the wine breathe. We cannot write well if our brains and our bods are not well. Getting well may require a chat or a walk with a close and trusted friend, cheerleader or therapist. Sometimes it requires a nap or a vacay or a bubble bath. Sometimes it requires getting a puppy because puppies will think you are unceasingly wonderful. Try reading segments of your favorite novels and examine how those stories are sewn together. Keep a dream journal (as proof that your mind is able to create fantastic, fictional worlds). Or do something else creative: knit, paint, make bread. My sister, a poet, musician and farmer, calls this “going to the well.” Sometimes our creativity is like uncooked Top Ramen or instant oatmeal and we need to Just Add Hot Water. We need to make sure we keep our writer’s soul hydrated. A desiccated writer is not a pretty sight.

Whether you decide to turn to page 16 or page 23 in your writing adventure, whether you need a break or you need to keep hammering away at the story, it’s important to acknowledge the presence of blockage. After you acknowledge this villain, name it and determine its origin. Writer’s block thrives on fear; when you acknowledge, name and deconstruct it–Pow! Whammo! Splat!–you relieve it of its power. Even the nastiest case of writer’s block has a version of Kryptonite.

Your turn, please! When you experience literary constipation, do you find it more powerful to take a break or do you give your story a full physical, complete with labs and scans, and refuse to leave your post until you have identified the cause of the malady? How have you been surprised by the apparent root of a case of writer’s block? How have you kicked it to the curb? Favorite Superhero? Most desirable superpower?

Sarah Callender lives in Seattle with her husband, son and daughter. A crummy house-cleaner and terrible at responding to emails in a timely fashion, Sarah chooses instead to focus on her fondness for chocolate and Abe Lincoln. She is working on her third novel while her fab agent pitches the first two to publishers.

Comments

I just finished reading Steven James’ “Story Trumps Structure” and one concept he mentioned is The Third Way. That is, when it seems there’s only two choices, it’s when we find the third one that we’re really on to something.

Here’s my third choice (and when I use it, it’s a true Pow! Whammo! Splat! against writer’s block): I take a break mentally at the keyboard with my story. Here’s how I do it: instead of sitting there and chasing Kardashian mirages, I roam my story. This can be simply going back and reading earlier material. Because I write fantasy, it can also meaning going into my world wiki and reading history notes and such; I also make character notes and future idea notes, so really, there’s plenty of places to “take a walk” while still in front of the story. One thing I can say, be it 1 minute or 10 minutes, I always find when I do this that I get an idea that fits in with the scene I just left.

It’s a little like David’s great Sisyphus analogy for writing in his post yesterday — being there with the story, rolling the rock up and up and up. You don’t have to necessarily focus on those constipated grunts; why not just enjoy the view that upward journey makes possible. And what a view!

Such a great point (about the third way of doing something), and I love the image of walking around in your story. Seems like yours is a bit of a hybrid–not taking a complete break, but also not forcing yourself to keep pushing ahead. And yeah, not nearly as much grunting.

Sarah, Wisdom with a side of funny!! I have gotten stopped cold by story problems so may times that I’ve learned to recognize the symptoms (as opposed to fear-symptoms, which feel physically different, causing acute freeze to my solar plexus). The best remedy I’ve found for story constipation is to go back and do forensics on the Ms.( I love what John said about taking a walk in the story!) But I do combine this with walking. Somehow, the act of moving allows stuff to bubble up from ‘the well’. So I guess I do a combo of cures, because honestly, when the story isn’t working, I feel fear. Thanks for so much to think about this morning, and for using the word ‘poop’ in a really good sentence! You always make my day.

Thanks, Susan. My 13-year-old son says I have the humor of a 14-year-old boy. I think he’s right. Thank you for your sweet words!

What is it about walking that really does seem to jiggle a stuck story? Writers throughout time have listed “take a walk” as some of their best writing time. I wish I knew why it worked . . . I suppose when we walk, we give our body something to do while our subconscious gnaws on the story.

Thank you for sharing today, Susan. And yes, I too have great fear when a story isn’t working. I had the feeling for most of the day yesterday. Thank goodness today is a less scary day. Phew!

Oh how I love reading your posts, Sarah. And I don’t mean to sound all braggy-pants, but I don’t feel like I’ve ever really had writer’s block. In fact, I have so many manuscripts to revise, and so many more stories to write, I often feel the opposite—overwhelmed even, like I’ll never get this all done. I almost didn’t comment (because of the whole braggy-pants scenario), and then I saw Susan’s comment. I do get caught up in solving story problems, and sometimes it takes days or even weeks to really work them out.

I recently had one, and at first I skipped over it. I left a scene that I knew wasn’t quite right as a place-marker, and continued with my rewrite. But it was an early scene (it was #2, and I don’t mean poop… well, maybe that’s a good metaphor for the place-marker), and I had a feeling that if I could find the emotional punch I was looking for, it would affect the work I was doing. So it was sort of a road-block, but I never stopped chewing on it. I chewed while I mowed the lawn, while I cleaned the house, etc. I tried several versions of the thing, from various POVs, including one from a character from whose viewpoint I’d never written. It was sort of fun. Sort of. But nothing was quite getting the job done.

Wanna know what broke through the road-block? A power outage. Yep, we woke up a week ago last Thursday to no power. And I work on a desktop (yep, I’m that old fashioned). So, with no A/C, I removed myself to the screen porch with my Kindle, iPod and headphones, and a notepad. I started to read, but couldn’t focus, so I closed my eyes and thought about the road-block scene, then let my mind drift (I call this visualizing, and no, it’s not napping). A Kate Bush song came onto my iPod, and it was as if Kate was telling me *exactly* how one of my characters felt in the moment of the scene (thank you, Kate!). I sat up and scrawled copious notes. It took two days to get our power back. Yeah, we live in the middle of Erehwon, which is a backward version of Nowhere (think about it a minute!). When I finally got back to my power-sucking, old fashioned desktop, the scene squirted out like I was stepping on a cap-less toothpaste tube.

So I guess I do get blocked, but I never stop, except to occasionally visualize (not nap!) and listen to Kate Bush. Gotta keep going, or else I’ll never get all of these damn stories out there! Oh, and the toothpaste top reminded me: I’m partial to Captain America. Cap’s an old-fashioned guy, too.

Kate Bush is wonderful for so many reasons. And now there’s one more (your example) to add to my list.

Yes, there’s that “move around, mow the lawn, listen to music, but don’t give up” thing that Susan S. alluded to. It’s such a mysterious and powerful thing. Sometimes I feel a little bad when I adopt ideas from Kate Bush or other artists, but I do think there’s a certain magic that happens when we surround ourselves with other forms of art. Maybe it’s meant to be that way.

I also agree that it’s hard to be blocked when you have more than one iron in the fire. You are not braggy-pants; you are SuperVaughn!

Such a good question, Pearl! I’m so glad you asked. And now, I will direct you to craft books from a few folks at WU: Donald Maass, Lisa Cron, James Scott Bell, David Corbett . . . they all have amazing craft books that help us writers understand the necessary cogs in our plots. I have also had some success from “The Plot Whisperer” and “The Anatomy of Story.” Also Robert McKee’s “Story.”

Plot does not come naturally to me so I have to constantly be checking in with my story to make sure a scene actually is pushing the plot and creating more tension. I so often forget to do that. My writing partners now know to gently, lovingly say, “Sarah? I’m not sure anything is really happening here.” They are always right.

I have also found Michael Hauge’s Screenplay lecture (http://www.storymastery.com/) to be helpful, specifically the article on writing screenplays. The concept of the progression of a story, including turning points, was a big aide (and still is these days). What he says about screenplays can be applied to fiction. He isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but he was very good for me.

Most stories come to a stop when there is a problem with plot. The titles and authors above may help you give your story a good checkup. Does that help? Please let me know if that still does not make sense.

I think mostly I run into story issues, but then the little fear gremlin starts jumping up and down and trying to make it worse. When that happens, yeah–I need to walk away (even for just 15 minutes) before I head back to try troubleshooting. Otherwise I end up, as they say, pushing rope.

Pushing rocks, fine. Pushing rope? Good luck with that. ;-)

Like John Robin, I’ve found Story Trumps Structure very helpful. Still working on integrating the whole idea of coming up with more than two options for a scene (divergent thinking, as we discussed last time!), but brains are trainable and I WILL get this. Eventually.

I love the image of pushing rope, Alisha. It’s one that feels a bit too familiar . . . now I know what to call that feeling. “Yep, it was a morning of pushing rope!”

I will check on Story Trumps Structure–thanks for weighing in! Isn’t it true that being a successful writer (however one defines “success”) is based on the confidence of the statement, I WILL GET THIS? Thank you for sharing that too.

Terrific post, Sarah — love Susan’s description of it as wisdom with a side of funny.

My good friend Hank Phillippi Ryan says there is ALWAYS a solution to every story problem. So one of the first steps is to believe that, trust it, know that the brain that created the problem can also find the solution, and devise your own list of best ways to do that. I’m fond of walks, and of washing the dishes — not letting my mind wander, but keeping it focused on the story. There’s something about getting the thigh muscles moving or the hands in hot water that frees up the right side of the brain — if we can still use that term, and I think we can; it’s useful, if not anatomically correct — and lets us figure out What Happens Next.

Excellent post. Usually I find that when I’m blocked, it means I have taken the wrong path, which means I need to go back and find the fork in the road, and perhaps choose the other path, or, maybe I need to forge an entirely new path.

Other times (like now) I’ve discovered what’s blocking the path forward (in this case lack of character motivation) but can’t quite figure out how to rectify the situation.

I humbly bow to anyone who can make it through a first draft without a pause. It’s hard to imagine how I would ever be able to do that because I seem to write my way in to a story. I was just apologizing to my writing partners, saying that I was sorry that they have to read dozens and dozens of drafts of weird crappola until the story is actually on the page. I hope that I will learn to be more efficient!

I never believed in writer’s block and always felt a little smug about it.

Now, after over 2 years of no new novel, I have to eat my “no”words – lawd!

I know what is stopping me: putting my arse in the chair and Begin. Once I Begin, there’s no stopping it. So why don’t I do that? I dunno. After being so very prolific, everything came to a standstill in my writing life, while my “real life” went chaotic and strange and weird. I guess I needed to live my life for a while instead of living it through my characters. Still. I’m grieving the loss of my writing. So why don’t I write? I dunno.

Dang.

Superhero – I don’t have a fave, so maybe I should create one. :D But I have been feeling pretty powerful. KAPOW! SHAZAM! WHUPOW! So maybe I will kick my whiney arse to the curb until I start the next book.

If it feels like writer’s block, in my case it means my character is doing something that’s not true to himself or herself. Take a break, drop back, figure out where I went wrong, fix it.

Alternately, the story’s boring me. If it can’t keep me excited for at least a year, there’s no point going on. Why is it boring me? Possibly I’m not seeing things through my characters’ eyes, in which case I go back to what I said before. OR, there’s just not enough happening. Raise the stakes, lob in a plot grenade, whatever. And don’t think about how much self-editing will probably happen later.

Back in school, we sometimes had to read crap because the teacher made us. We’re adults now. We don’t have to write crap. Nobody’s forcing us. Forget that, and sometimes blocks happen. Blocks can be a good thing.